


A Nanny for Christmas

by kellsbells



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Bering & Wells Holiday Gift Exchange 2016, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9051355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellsbells/pseuds/kellsbells
Summary: Helena Wells has just been fired from her job in advertising. Her friend Will finds her a job working for Myka Bering, but it's not the job she thought it was. She's soon looking after a child and living with an extremely pretty woman. Coincidences and misunderstandings abound, since this is based on a terrible, terrible Hallmark Christmas movie. And I added my own brand of daft, too. This is a present for Beatricethecat, for the 2016 Bering and Wells Holiday Gift Exchange.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beatricethecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatricethecat/gifts).



A Nanny for Christmas

 

Helena Wells was in a difficult spot. A promising senior advertising executive only a month ago, she was now out of work and out of luck, thanks to the machinations of James MacPherson, her arch-nemesis. She knew that not many people had an arch-nemesis, but she seemed to be just one of those lucky sorts. She and James, British expats both, could have been friends, perhaps, had circumstances been different. Unfortunately, however, they’d both been enamoured of the same woman at the first firm in which they’d both been employed as interns many years previous. Her name was Giselle, and she had been – probably still was – a goddess among women. She had long, flowing red hair, the crystal-clear eyes of a Scandinavian runway model and a body to match. Helena was in a cab as she mused on her circumstances, and she remembered Giselle’s long, long legs fondly. It wasn’t Helena’s fault that James had never stood a chance with Giselle – the woman was gay, and that was that. But he held it against Helena and that was why, five years later, she was without a job and about to be thrown out of her apartment.

 

Her phone rang, interrupting her train of thought, and she picked it up quickly when she realised it was Wolly.

 

“William, please tell me she hasn’t cancelled my interview. I need this job,” Helena said, and William spoke in his usual calm, precise fashion.

 

“Helena, darling. She’s ready to see you. Just… she seems to want to know how you are with children, which is a bit odd – I thought it was a luxury chocolate brand she was working for, currently. But I told her you love them. So make sure that you sound suitably enamoured of the little buggers, should she mention them, okay?” he said, and Helena nodded before realising she was on the phone.

 

“Yes, of course. I love children, couldn’t eat a whole one, though,” she said, with a silly, high-pitched laugh.

 

“Um. Helena? Don’t say that to Ms Bering, please. I’ve gone out on a limb here for you, and you sound like a nutter.”

 

“Fine,” Helena said sullenly. “No jokes.”

 

“Good,” Wolly said, and his voice was full of false cheer, now. “Now, darling. You’ve got this. You are an up and coming star in the advertising business, and as long as she doesn’t find out about the debacle with the fruit campaign, we’re good.”

 

Helena sighed. That fucking fruit thing was going to follow her around forever. It wasn’t her fault the model had been so violently allergic to strawberries.

 

“Thanks, Will. I really appreciate this, you know. You’re a good friend.”

 

“I know, darling. I am. Go on, get your gorgeous arse in there and wow her.”

 

Helena smiled. Wolly really was the most outrageous flirt.

 

“You wouldn’t know what to do with this arse, love,” she said, and he snorted.

 

“You’re not wrong there, gorgeous. Now go get her. And call me the minute you’re done.”

 

He had already hung up by the time she went to say goodbye. She rolled her eyes and the cab driver announced that they had arrived. Helena took in a deep breath, leaving a decent tip for the cab driver, and went to face Ms Bering, Wolly’s contact.

 

She was quickly shown in to the office by a short redheaded woman who looked as if she’d only just graduated college. Ms Bering was behind a huge desk, tapping away on a slim laptop with immaculately manicured fingers. She had a wonderful head of curls but Helena could see little else of her until she looked up.

 

“Ms Bering, your 3 o’ clock,” the redhead said, and Ms Bering nodded, her green-eyed gaze taking in every detail of Helena. She stood up, stepping around the desk to shake Helena’s hand. Helena couldn’t help but let her eyes sweep up and down the woman’s form. She was tall, lean and incredibly beautiful, in a form-fitting black trouser suit with a pink shirt underneath. Helena swallowed, shaking Ms Bering’s hand and pasting an attempt at a professional smile on her face.

 

“Helena, is it?” she asked, returning to the other side of the desk and taking out a notebook, flipping through to the right page.

 

“Yes, although some call me HG, given my surname and initials,” Helena said, trying to break the ice with a little levity. Ms Bering just looked at her, entirely unimpressed.

 

“I see. Which do you prefer?” she asked, and Helena shrugged. Apparently levity had no place, here.

 

“Either is fine.”

 

“Very well. Helena,” she began, but they were interrupted by the phone. Ms Bering pressed a button on a complicated piece of equipment on her desk that may have been a phone, and the redheaded assistant’s voice came through the speaker.  

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms Bering, but I’ve got Arthur Nielsen from Frederic’s on, and he sounds pissed.”

 

“Claudia. Professionalism,” Ms Bering snapped.

 

“Sorry, Myka. He sounds unhappy, and I thought you should speak to him.”

 

“I’m sorry about this, Helena,” Ms Bering – Myka – said, and she told the assistant to put the call through, for some reason on speaker. The voice issuing from it was supremely snotty, and proceeded to shout for the following ten minutes about their account and all the things that were wrong. Ms Bering, to her credit, just included verbal nods while writing furiously in her notebook (on a different page, Helena noted, than the one she’d been using for Helena’s interview. There was a coloured label already attached to each section of the notebook – Ms Bering was clearly very organised). She proceeded to calm Mr Nielsen down expertly, and within another five or so minutes had ended the call with a series of promises to resolve his problems without delay. When she hung up, Ms Bering took a deep breath before looking up at Helena.

 

“I’m sorry you had to listen to all that, Helena. As you can see, I’m under a great deal of pressure here, especially as we’re coming up to Christmas. The next thing you know it will be Valentine’s Day, and that’s Frederic’s biggest day of the year. I’m sorry to cut this short,” she said, and Helena’s heart sank. She fished around in her bag for her resume, and offered it to Ms Bering, who shook her head.

 

“I don’t need that, thank you. I have Will’s recommendation, which means much more to me, quite frankly. This is what I’m offering,” she said, writing on a small piece of paper and passing it to Helena. The amount made her eyes widen.

 

“Is this…?” Helena began, and Myka nodded.

 

“Yes, weekly. And obviously that includes accommodation. You’re a godsend, Helena, I have to tell you. Christina is a wonderful child, and I wish I could spend more time with her, but this is the best I can do for now.”

 

“Christina?” Helena asked, puzzled.

 

“My daughter. You can meet her first thing in the morning,” Myka said, handing Helena a card on which was printed her name and an address. “Be there at seven and you can meet Christina and see your rooms.”

 

Helena nodded, confused, and followed Myka, who was clearly showing her to the door. She didn’t understand what had happened. Was she supposed to be running an advertising campaign with this Christina as an actress or something? What on earth was going on? Before she knew it, the door was closing behind her and she was standing by the redhead’s desk clutching her bag and the card, blinking in confusion.

 

“So, she hired you, then?” the redhead asked, conversationally, tilting her head and looking Helena over curiously. “You’re gonna love Christina, she’s the best kid, honestly. I babysit sometimes, and she is the coolest.”

 

“Christina. Of course,”  Helena said faintly, still not understanding.

 

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you’d be the one she chose. You don’t really look like a nanny. Like, maybe Mary Poppins if she was a little bit shady. Cos you’re really hot,” the redhead said. She then reddened and Helena stared at her.

 

“Excuse me, young woman, but did you say nanny?” she asked, severely, and the young woman in question pointed at her gleefully.

 

“That. That’s it. Total scary nanny face,” she said, almost cheering, and Helena just stared.

 

“I’ve just been hired as a nanny,” Helena repeated, and redhead nodded.

 

“Yup. Claudia Donovan, by the way. We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other.”

 

“Delighted,” Helena said, automatically, shaking the girl’s hand.

 

“You’re so English, dude. It’s awesome. The kid is going to lap that up, I can tell you. Her mom was English, I think,” Claudia said, and Helena looked at her in confusion once again.

 

“I thought Ms Bering was her mother?”

 

“Oh, well – yeah. But adoptive, you know? The kid was given up for adoption and Myka was looking for a kid, and that’s how that happened.”

 

Helena shook her head to clear it. It couldn’t be – it wasn’t possible for such a thing to actually happen, surely? No, of course not. Not remotely possible. She nodded at Claudia and wandered out of the building in a daze before calling Wolly again.

 

“Well, I’ve been hired,” she said, to his excited enquiry.

 

“That’s wonderful news!” he enthused, and she cut him off.

 

“As a nanny.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Did you at any time, William, ask Ms Bering what position she needed filling?” Helena asked icily, and Wolly snorted with laughter.

 

“Not the time for the double entendre,” she said, severely. “Read the room, darling.”

 

He coughed nervously.

 

“Sorry, HG. I did not, in fact, ask what the position was. Being as she is the head of an advertising agency, I assumed – obviously erroneously – that she was looking for an advertising executive. I am so, so sorry. Would you like me to put the word out that you’re looking for something?” he asked solicitously. She was silent for a moment.

 

“It appears, actually, that I have somehow accepted the position,” she said, slowly.

 

“Have you ever worked with children before?” he asked, after a moment.

 

“Not as such. But they are just small humans. What can go wrong?” she asked, before wishing him a good day and hanging up. She left out the small matter of her suspicions, and went home to pack up her tiny apartment. It appeared she wasn’t going to be needing it for a while.

 

Later that evening, Steve came by for pizza and beer, and despite her dislike of modern pizza, she went along with it, ordering a margharita and nibbling at it. He ordered some sort of vegetable medley thing that looked horrid, and they sat in companionable silence watching some celebrity dance contest on television – Steve was addicted, despite not wanting to be, as he put it, a gay stereotype.

 

“There are sequins and hot guys in tight pants – it’s not my fault, Helena,” he had said, and that became one of their weekly routines.

 

“I think next week I’m going to have to come to your place,” Helena said, indicating the bare walls and empty shelves of her apartment.

 

“Oh my God!” Steve said, almost spitting out his beer. “I was so excited about the tight pants that I didn’t even notice! What the hell, Helena?”

 

“I got a new job,” she began, and as he began to congratulate her, she continued, “as a nanny.”

 

Silence.

 

“I’m sorry, babe,” Steve said, sticking a finger in his ear and wiggling it about as if there was something in there blocking his hearing. “Did you say that you, Helena Wells, got a job as a nanny? A person who looks after children?”

 

“Well. You see, what happened was,” Helena began, and by the end of the story, Steve was howling with laughter. Helena was more than a little offended and a touch upset.

 

“So let me get this straight…” Steve said, once he’d stopped laughing. “You see a pretty girl, you get offered a job and you don’t realise until afterwards that you’re being hired as a nanny. You, Helena Wells. The woman who I once saw putting Purell on a Girl Scout’s hands before you’d allow her to give you change for your Thin Mints? That Helena Wells?”

 

“Steve, she was filthy. She was picking her nose, and I swear she flicked it at me. I was perfectly justified… anyway, that’s not important. Ms Bering is a very attractive woman, but this is hardly my fault. She never once mentioned that it was a job as a nanny. When Wolly contacted her, she must have been looking for a nanny and just assumed that’s why he was calling. And he, in turn, assumed that she was looking for an advertising executive. So none of this is my fault, okay?” She crossed her arms and turned her face away, in a bit of a huff, if truth be told.

 

“Look, babe, I didn’t mean to insult you. But you have got to agree that this is a little… unusual. You got hired for a job you didn’t apply for, and now you’re moving into some woman’s house to look after her daughter, and your nanny skills are on a par with my golfing talents. Which is to say, they don’t exist. Or am I wrong? Have you got a secret hankering for the pitter patter of tiny feet?” he said, teasingly, and Helena tensed. Of course, he didn’t know. No-one did.

 

Steve touched her arm gently, tentatively, rubbing up and down soothingly.

 

“Hey, Helena. What’s going on here, like, really going on? I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry,” he said, and she turned to him, tears filling her eyes.

 

“I gave up a baby. A daughter. My parents insisted; she was born out of wedlock and I was too irresponsible to have a child, they said. They told me they would throw me out if I didn’t give her up for adoption, and I was a coward. I didn’t have any money and they were right, I was irresponsible. I had been sleeping around and partying for too long with the money they provided and they were sick of me. It was a wake-up call for me. When I gave birth, and I saw her face – I was heartbroken, Steve, and she was the image of me. She had this crazy head of dark hair and she was so beautiful. I had to give her up; I was right to. But it really hurts, Steve,” she said, and he held her while she cried it out.

 

“You did the right thing, Helena,” he said, once she’d stopped crying, and she wiped her nose with a tissue, looking at him doubtfully.

 

“Do you really think so?” she asked, and he nodded.

 

“Look. We’re in our thirties now, and could be classed as functional adults. But in my early twenties, I was doing all sorts of crazy stuff, and I am sure you were too. Hell, we still tear it up now and then. I don’t think that would have been good for a kid, and yeah, maybe you would have grown up all of a sudden, but you wouldn’t have been able to live your life, to become you, and that would have been a tragedy. Wherever your daughter ended up, she would have been wanted, Helena. People who adopt are looking for a kid. Like, they’re choosing it. Wherever she is, she’s loved.”

 

Helena let him hug her, and tried not to think about the fact that her new charge was born in England. “Please, let her be as different from me as is humanly possible,” she repeated in her head, over and over, like a prayer.

 

***

 

The following morning she knocked at the huge door of Myka Bering’s brownstone. It was a beautiful building, well-kept and absolutely huge. It was hard to believe that only two people lived here, when Helena had just come from an apartment that probably had the same square footage as Myka Bering’s downstairs loo.

 

“Helena. Welcome,” Ms Bering said, opening the door as she tapped on a tablet, clearly distracted. “Come in.”

 

Helena dragged her suitcase up and into the building carefully, leaving it by the door until she knew where to put it. Myka Bering wandered off and Helena followed her to what turned out to be the kitchen, where a young girl was eating fruit and yoghurt for breakfast. A girl with hair as black as Helena’s, with dark brown eyes. Like Helena’s. The child looked up and Helena gasped. She looked exactly like Helena had at her age. Exactly.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” Myka asked, looking up from the tablet in confusion. Her eyes meeting Helena’s gave her another shock, this time of a different kind, but no less shocking. Helena took a deep breath, her cheeks crimson.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, and patted her chest slightly, her hand flapping. “I think I possibly took the stairs a little too quickly. I’ll be fine in just a second,” she said, with an attempt at a reassuring smile. Myka Bering looked at her dubiously before turning to speak to her daughter.

 

“Christina, this is Helena. She’s going to be your nanny for a while,” Myka said, and her voice was so different, so filled with love when she spoke to her daughter, that Helena’s heart clenched again.

 

The girl stood up and crossed to Helena, offering her hand reluctantly. She was wearing the uniform of a local private school, one of the most expensive in the district. Helena shook the girl’s hand with a weak smile, thinking that if this girl was, by some ridiculous coincidence, her daughter, at least she was getting a decent education.

 

“Delighted,” Helena said, and the girl’s face suddenly lit up.

 

“Are you English, Helena?” she asked, her mouth agape. “My birth mom was from England. That’s where I was born. Mom says when I’m old enough I can get a British passport if I want.”

 

“Well. That is something, isn’t it?” Helena said, and Ms Bering smiled at her before turning back to her tablet. “I am, indeed, from England. I was born in London and moved here about 7 years ago, if memory serves. Have you ever been to London, young lady?” she asked, with a mock-serious tone, and the girl giggled.

 

“No, but my Mom says she’ll take me there when I get older. She’s too busy right now.”

 

Helena saw Myka’s shoulders tighten at that declaration, but she gave no other indication that she’d heard her daughter. Helena forced a smile.

 

“I’m sure it will be glorious, whenever you go. What do you want to see?” she asked, and Christina began to chatter away about Big Ben and Buckingham Palace and various places she’d seen on different television programmes, including Hogwarts. Helena didn’t have the heart to tell her that Hogwarts wasn’t a real place. By the time the girl went to England, they’d probably have built a replica Hogwarts anyway.

 

Myka smiled as she watched Christina chatter at Helena, and she seemed to remember that she was supposed to be giving Helena a tour. She set down the tablet, interrupting Christina softly to tell her to get her bag and coat for school.

 

“She took to you right away. She’s not normally that talkative,” Myka remarked, as she pointed out the different rooms on the ground floor.

 

“She’s a lovely girl. Clearly she’s been brought up well,” Helena said.

 

“Well, Wolly wasn’t joking when he recommended you, clearly,” Myka said, and Helena flushed.

 

“So, where might I find my room?” she asked, and Myka looked at her red face curiously before showing her to the stairs. Her room was on the top floor. Or rather, the top floor was hers, all four rooms. Bedroom, sitting room, bathroom and tiny kitchen.

 

“It’s set up as a granny flat, I guess?” Myka said, palming the back of her neck.

 

“This is – well. It’s bigger than my apartment, Ms Bering,” Helena said, impressed. It was small but impressively kitted out. The tiny kitchen had everything a person might need.

 

“Please, call me Myka. Unless you’re at my office, for some reason, then I guess stick to Ms Bering,” Myka said, and Helena nodded.

 

“Myka, then. Thank you. This is much more than I had expected.”

 

Myka flushed a little then, smiling, and Helena was struck, once again, by how beautiful Ms Bering – Myka – was. She had the most tremendous head of curls, chestnut brown, and her eyes were some shade of green that Helena had never seen before, with a sort of golden colour interspersed with the green. She had a little imperfection in her lips when she smiled that somehow made her that much more beautiful. Helena didn’t understand how she could be single. It just didn’t make any sense.

 

Ms Bering began to reel off a list of things she expected Helena to do when Christina arrived home. She had a private driver to take her to and from school, which was two blocks away. Helena narrowly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Walking two blocks wouldn’t kill the girl. There was homework and then some sort of educational television show, followed by a nutritious dinner of vegetables and steamed fish. The girl then had a bath and bed, where Helena would read to her from one of a selection of books that Myka thought appropriate. There was to be no Harry Potter, it appeared, despite the girl’s affinity for Hogwarts. Nor happiness, nor breathing out of turn. Ms Bering ran as tight a ship at home as she did at work, apparently.

 

Helena went downstairs with Myka to see Christina off. The girl was so like Helena that it made her heart clench. She kept telling herself that it wasn’t possible, that it was just coincidence, but something in her felt like… felt like she knew this child. It was disturbing and Helena was extremely uncomfortable with the whole situation. Being a nanny as a stopgap was one thing, but if Christina was actually her biological daughter, then she would feel as if she was some sort of spy in the Bering home. All in all, the situation was making her uneasy and she was having trouble hiding it.

 

“So, Christina arrives back at approximately 3.45,” Myka said, and Helena dutifully wrote that down in a notebook. “Until then, your time is your own. You can have a weekend day off, but we need to agree which in advance; I have so much to do I just…”

 

Helena interrupted her.

 

“Ms Bering. I mean, Myka. I don’t have any pressing social engagements. I have no problem with being available all weekend for now to assist you with your campaign. As long as it’s not something that goes on indefinitely.”

 

“Oh,” Myka said, and she looked a little taken aback. “Thank you. That’s… you don’t have to do that, Helena.”

 

“I know, but you’re clearly stressed and overworked, Myka. I don’t have anything else I could be doing, I assure you.”

 

Myka just looked at her gratefully, seeming a little flustered herself. A thought occurred to Helena.

 

“Do you have any objections to my entertaining when I’m not actively looking after Christina?” she asked. “I would normally meet up with a friend once a week or so to watch television together, and I told him we’d have to do it at his place, but…”

 

“Oh, of course. Sure. It’s your home too, Helena,” Myka said. “Your boyfriend is welcome. Just… you know. Keep PDA in front of Christina to a minimum?”

 

Helena giggled helplessly at the idea of Steve as her lover. Myka stared.

 

“I am sorry, Ms Bering. It’s just – Steve is the gayest. As am I, in fact. Well. I suppose bisexual might be a better moniker, but I tend to date women, when I do date, which I haven’t for absolutely ages,” Helena said, rambling, and suddenly Myka’s face was redder than a fire hydrant.

 

“Well,” Helena said, into the awkward silence, “that was just a little too much information, was it not?”

 

Myka laughed, still bright red.

 

“You might be right, there. But of course, your apartment is your home, and when you’re not working, please feel free to have friends round. There’s even a separate entrance at the back of the house if you’d prefer to use it.”

 

Myka passed her a set of keys, and Helena attached them to her own keys with a smile, using a carabiner that Steve had given her once as a gift.

 

“So, it is true, what they say about lesbians and carabiners,” Myka said, as Helena put her keys in her bag.

 

“What?” Helena asked, one eyebrow up.

 

“Nothing,” Myka muttered, reddening again. “Just something I saw in a movie, once.”

 

“Well, I do have a carabiner on my keys as you saw, so it would appear that the movie was correct,” Helena said brightly. Myka smiled widely as she realised that Helena was trying to go along with her joke, weak though it was. She looked so beautiful in that moment that Helena wanted to lean forward and kiss her smile. The urge made her immediately confused. This was her employer, not someone she’d just met in a bar. Plus, Myka clearly wasn’t gay, given her whole demeanour when Helena had mentioned her own orientation.

 

“So, you can settle in now, I guess,” Myka said, with a smile. “And I need to get to work. I’m late enough as it is.” Her face changed suddenly from relaxed to hard lines of stress.

 

“If I can be of any help, Ms Bering, do let me know,” Helena said, hesitantly placing a hand on Myka’s arm. Myka looked down at it and then over at Helena.

 

“I… um… thank you,” Myka said, her cheeks colouring again. Helena smiled at her and followed her down the many, many flights of stairs to retrieve her suitcase.

 

Helena had just finished unpacking her books – a fraction of her collection – when it was time for Christina to arrive home. She checked herself in the mirror to make sure she didn’t look like an evil Mary Poppins, and made her way downstairs again. If nothing else, this job was going to keep her fit.

 

The little girl was getting out of the town car as Helena opened the door to the brownstone. Once again Helena was struck with the similarity between them. Her prayers of the night before had gone unanswered, it appeared. Christina could easily be Helena’s daughter. She was the right age, the right race, the right hair and eye colour. And her bone structure was an almost exact copy of Helena’s.

 

“Hi, Helena,” the girl said, in her piping voice. Her accent was a jarring reminder that whether this was her biological daughter or not, she was not Helena’s – could never be Helena’s. Because Helena had given up her daughter.

 

“Good afternoon, Christina,” Helena said, smiling as best she could given her train of thought.

 

The girl had a huge pile of homework. Helena got her some low-fat milk and sugar free cookies, as per her mother’s request, and the girl smiled at her, warming Helena. She concentrated fiercely on her homework, asking every now and then for Helena’s help, and they settled into a quiet camaraderie. Helena read a book for a while before starting on dinner, wondering why a child of Christina’s age really needed all this fat-free nonsense. She was a growing child and she certainly didn’t need to lose weight. It seemed that Myka Bering had some issues about discipline that she was passing on to Christina. While it certainly wasn’t Helena’s place to judge, having given up a child rather than looking after it, it made her feel a little sad.

 

She and Christina ate together, talking about the girl’s schoolwork and the things that had happened in class that day. Initially, the girl was a little hesitant to talk about anything other than her schoolwork, as if that sort of thing wasn’t encouraged at home. But once she realised that Helena was interested in everything she had to say (and Helena, to her own surprise, actually _was_ interested) she blossomed, giggling about her teachers and the latest television programme she loved. Dr Who, apparently, was the thing that she and her classmates were into. Helena had never watched any of it; the version she knew was from the 70s and 80s and had terrible acting and sets and it had just never interested her. When Christina heard this, however, she was appalled, and insisted that Helena watched the show with her. Since her homework was finished and the schedule she’d been given didn’t expressly forbid Dr Who, Helena agreed. After a quick check online to ensure that the episode was suitable for a child of Christina’s age, of course. It could be argued that the show was educational, given that it involved time travel and would perhaps interest Christina in history. Or at least, that’s what she would say if Ms Bering asked. Again, to Helena’s surprise, she was actually quite drawn in by the show. It still had some of the failings of the older version, but more in a way that indicated that those aspects had been left in for the sake of nostalgia. They watched two episodes before Helena told Christina it was time for her to shower before bed. The girl stuck her bottom lip out in a pout that resembled Helena’s so much that her heart clenched. It couldn’t possibly be true, could it? That this little girl was actually the child that Helena had given up for adoption a number of years before? It sounded like the plot of a bad movie, especially given that Helena was only here because of several unbelievable miscommunications.

 

She sent Christina off for a shower at the appropriate time followed by an hour or so sitting on the chair next to the bed to read from one of Ms Bering’s approved texts, which, from what Helena could discern, was one of the most boring things in existence. Where was the excitement of discovery, of exploration? Science fiction, fantasy, magic? It appeared those were not allowed. Helena decided to sneak a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone down the next night. She read to Christina until the little girl was exhausted and slipping into sleep, and then tucked her in and turned to leave the room, finding Myka Bering standing in the doorway watching her with an odd expression.

 

“Oh, hello Ms Bering. I didn’t hear you come in,” Helena said quietly, and Myka smiled at her. Again, the expression was a bit strange, and Helena couldn’t quite decipher it.

 

“No problem. I tried to be quiet – I didn’t want to wake Christina if she was already asleep,” Myka said, and Helena nodded, leaving the room and following Myka downstairs.

 

“So, how did it go?” Myka asked, standing in the kitchen and looking in the refrigerator, her fingers running through her hair distractedly.

 

“It went very well, I thought. She is a wonderful child. Smart and funny and thoughtful. She works hard and she seemed to enjoy the time we spent together,” Helena said, watching Myka curiously.

 

“That’s great. She’s really taken to you,” Myka said, turning to look at Helena. “It’s odd, really. Normally she’s a lot more reserved.”

 

“Well, I can’t say why that might be, but I’m pleased to be held in her regard,” Helena said quietly. Myka nodded and turned back to the refrigerator, taking things out and putting them back in randomly. Helena watched her for a moment.

 

“Ms Bering, what on earth are you doing?” Helena asked, after a moment. Myka turned to look at her again, and this time she looked almost as if she’d forgotten that Helena was there.

 

“Sorry, Helena. I had a bit of a day and I just can’t think of what to eat. I don’t like ordering takeout, and I just…” she gestured helplessly at the food in front of her.

 

Helena couldn’t say what made her do it. She wasn’t much of a cook, and she wasn’t one for looking after others, generally. But she’d just spent a day catering to a child’s needs, so perhaps it had opened up some sort of nurturing quality she didn’t normally possess.

 

“Let me make you something,” Helena said, going to the refrigerator and taking out some eggs and vegetables. “Do you like omelettes?”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Myka protested, but she looked exhausted, and when Helena just raised an eyebrow at her, she went to sit on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Yeah. An omelette would be great.”

 

Helena beat some eggs and chopped some vegetables – a nice selection of colours – along with a little grated cheese and some parsley, and within ten or so minutes they were both sitting at the breakfast bar, Helena with a cup of tea and Myka with tea and an omelette and some bread and butter.

 

“Thank you for this,” Myka said, as she shovelled food into her mouth. She looked as if she’d been starving all day.

 

“Did you eat at all today?” Helena asked curiously. Myka shook her head. “I’m surprised you managed to get through the day at all,” Helena chided gently.

 

“I know,” Myka said, taking a swallow of her tea. “Things just got crazy, and Artie Nielsen – well, you heard him on the phone the other day – he’s just such a taskmaster, and it’s almost time for their Christmas campaign launch and that’s when he decides to fire his old firm and hire mine. I’m working under the gun here, and it’s a small firm. So it’s on me.” She shrugged, continuing to eat, and by the time she was finished, her cheeks had colour in them.

 

“Wow. Thank you for that, Helena. I think you just saved my life,” Myka said, and Helena snorted.

 

“It was just some dinner, Ms Bering. And I shall be calling your office tomorrow to check that your assistant – Claudia, is it? I shall be calling to make sure she gets your lunch and waits while you eat it. Your daughter won’t appreciate it if her mother ends up in hospital with exhaustion.”

 

Myka looked at her curiously.

 

“You’re an odd one, Helena,” she said, with a half-smile. “When you came into my office, I thought I had the wrong person. You don’t seem the type to be a nanny, but now I’ve seen you with Christina, and now this, I can’t see you any other way. And will you please call me Myka?” she asked, this time plaintively. Helena chuckled.

 

“Very well. Myka it is. I suppose the nanny thing was a bit of a surprise all round,” she said, diplomatically, before taking a sip of tea. She didn’t want to lose this job, now that she had it – or at least not yet. She needed the money, first off, but this house already felt like a home to her, and she had to at least try to work out if it was remotely possible that Christina could be her biological child. She probably shouldn’t; she should probably apologise for the mix-up and walk away from this entire situation but she couldn’t bring herself to.

 

***

 

Their days continued from there in much the same fashion; Helena having the morning and early afternoon to herself and working from the time that Christina arrived home from school until she went to bed. It also became Helena’s custom to make something for Myka when she arrived home. Having been previously uninterested in cooking, she suddenly began looking up recipes for quick and nutritious meals for Myka. She also, as promised, called Claudia during the day to ensure that Myka ate lunch, much to the girl’s amusement. On the third night, Myka turned to her as Helena was sipping her tea and fixed her with a serious look.

 

“This is not your job, you know,” she said, and Helena’s stomach flipped. Had Myka found out that she wasn’t even a nanny, but was in fact an advertising executive with no experience in looking after children whatsoever?

 

“I… I’m sorry,” Helena said, and Myka looked panicked for a moment.

 

“No, no. I’m not firing you. I just… you don’t have to cook for me. Normally I’m way better organised, but things have been so crazy, recently, and I… well. I have Christina, and she has to be my priority, and I guess sometimes I don’t remember about myself. I mean, when she got here I think I lived on breakfast cereal for months,” Myka admitted, with a lopsided grin, and Helena couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“I understand. I believe they can be… demanding, at that age,” Helena said.

 

“So you’ve never looked after one that young?” Myka asked, her head tilting.

 

“No,” Helena said, truthfully, but her stomach was cramping in on itself. She hated lying. She was good at it, but she hated it. Even though that statement was technically true, all of Myka’s suppositions about her were wrong.

 

“Well, she had some trouble sleeping, right at the beginning, and I guess I blamed myself, because I wasn’t her mother and maybe she would have done better, with her biological mother?” Myka half-said, half-asked, and Helena shook her head, putting a hand on Myka’s where it rested on the table.

 

“Christina’s biological mother gave her up for some reason, and you wanted her. There is no way that, whoever she was, she would have done any better at all,” Helena said sincerely. Myka’s other hand palmed the back of her neck and she reddened.

 

“Thank you,” she said, looking at her plate, and Helena recognised her discomfort and removed her hand, picking up her tea and taking a sip while Myka concentrated on her food.

 

“Going back to what you said,” Helena began, after a moment, “I don’t mind making a little dinner for you after a hard day at work. I don’t consider it to be part of my duties, I assure you.”

 

Myka reddened again and turned to look at Helena, her eyes confused. Helena just smiled and touched Myka’s hand again, once, before heading upstairs with her cup.

 

It was a few days later, Helena’s first day off, and Steve had come to visit. Myka was working, and Christina was out at a soccer match, Helena having dropped her off earlier. Helena was showing Steve around the huge brownstone.

 

“So, you’ve got the run of this place and you’ve got your own apartment?” Steve asked, as they walked past the huge main bathroom and its huge whirlpool bath.

 

“Well, in theory, I suppose. I mainly keep to myself when I’m not looking after Christina.”

 

She frowned at the girl’s name, thinking about the girl’s face, about her expressions, about that little obstinate face she made when she didn’t want to do something, and Steve caught the look.

 

“What’s going on, H?” he asked, and Helena sighed.

 

“Come upstairs and we’ll talk,” she said, and she made them both some herbal tea in her little kitchen before sitting down on the comfortable sofa and putting her feet in his lap the way she always did when Steve came by.

 

“So. What is it, babe? You looked happy, like you were enjoying it here, and then you mentioned the kid. Is it because of the girl you gave up?” he asked, tackling the matter head-on. It was one of his best qualities. He just said what he was thinking, and Helena never had to worry that he was hiding something.

 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, actually,” she began, and she took a moment to sip at her tea before continuing. “I might be going mad, but I actually think it’s possible that Christina might be my biological child.”

 

“What?” Steve asked, his mouth gaping open. “You’re not serious? How could that have… how can that be?”

 

“I know it’s unlikely. The odds are astronomical, I know. But you should see her, Steve. And she was adopted from London. I don’t know her birthday, but she is around the same age. Look.”

 

She showed him a picture of herself at the age of ten or so, her and Charlie grinning at one another, and then a picture of Christina with Myka that she’d snapped one morning without either noticing.

 

“Wow,” Steve said, his hand running backwards and forwards over the stubble on his close-shaven head. “That… the resemblance is pretty crazy. But like you said, the odds have got to be…”

 

She nodded. “I know, darling.” She sighed. “I was feeling guilty, thinking that I should resign and apologise, because this is a tad ridiculous, the whole thing. But if Christina is really my daughter, then it almost feels like fate that I’m here, through such a daft set of circumstances. Do you know what I mean?”

 

Steve nodded.

 

“I… I don’t suppose the extreme hotness of Christina’s mom has anything to do with your desire to stay here, does it?” he asked, a little slyly, and Helena felt a blush rise up in her cheeks.

 

“She’s a beautiful, strong and intelligent woman. I’d have to be a gay man not to be attracted to her,” she said, and he laughed.

 

“I’m a gay man and I _am_ attracted to her, Helena. Is there any chance she’s into you?” he asked.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” Helena said. “I mentioned I was having you over and she thought you were a boyfriend so of course I had to disabuse her of that notion, and she was horribly embarrassed by it all. So I suspect she’s extremely straight,” she said sadly. Steve sighed dramatically.

 

“That would have been too perfect, right? The adoptive mother of your biological child turns out to be a complete hottie and you fall in love and raise your daughter together? Like one of those Hallmark movies you watch at Christmas or when you’re hungover,” he said, and she smiled.

 

“Yes. Too perfect,” she said, and the conversation moved on to Steve’s latest conquest. Helena made a mental note to introduce him to Wolly; he might have buggered up royally by putting her forward for this job, but she thought he would get on really well with Steve.

 

“Helena?” a voice said, from outside of the door. It was Myka.

 

“Come in,” Helena yelled, and Myka came in, looking a little startled when she saw that Helena had a guest. And that her feet were in said guest’s lap.

 

“Myka Bering, this is Steve Jinks, my good friend. I think I told you he might come by,” Helena said, and Myka visibly relaxed, walking over and offering her hand to Steve, who shook it with a sly smile.

 

“Hi, Ms Bering. It’s really nice to meet you. Helena’s told me a lot about you and your daughter. You have a lovely home,” Steve said, ever the charmer, and Myka’s face coloured a little.

 

“Um, thanks,” Myka said, and Helena smiled at her.

 

“Was there something you needed, Myka?” Helena asked, and Myka reddened even more.

 

“No, no. Nothing like that. I just – I finished up a little early this afternoon and I was going to head out for a late lunch. I thought you might join me, because you’ve been cooking for me every evening, but you’ve got a guest, so I won’t intrude. Another time, maybe?” Myka said, and she was already backing out of the room.

 

“Wait, Ms Bering. I was actually about to head home,” Steve said, much to Helena’s surprise. She’d invited him round to watch rubbish movies all afternoon – or at least unless and until she was needed to assist with Christina. “I’m sure Helena would love to have lunch with you – she was just saying how hungry she was. Let me get out of your hair,” Steve said, pushing Helena’s feet off his lap, causing her to spill some of her tea down herself. She made a mental note to kill him later.

 

“Oh, cool,” Myka said, her hand at the back of her neck again. “If you’re sure, then?” she asked, looking at Helena questioningly.

 

Helena looked at her and smiled.

 

“I’d be delighted,” she said simply, and Myka smiled back at her, her eyes wide. She looked stunning and it was all Helena could do not to cross the room and kiss her.

 

“Okay, then. Let me just change and I’ll see you downstairs,” Myka said, and she backed out of the room, still blushing.

 

“Oh my GOD!” Steve stage-whispered, once Myka had closed the door. “Your gaydar is so broken, Helena. She is seriously into you. All that blushing and the bashful body language? Seriously into you. Go and pick out something killer to wear. And you owe me; I have nothing to do all afternoon now. I did that for you. It’s about time you got some, when was the last time, even?” he asked, and she glared at him.

 

“That’s none of your business, Steven darling. And thank you for your subtlety,” she said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

 

“Shut up, Helena. She was way too busy drooling all over you to even notice me,” he said, and Helena smiled at him. For once, she thought he might be right. Maybe her gaydar was busted. Or bi-fi, or whatever the kids were calling it these days. She went to change, her heart beginning to pound as she wondered whether she’d just agreed to a date with Myka Bering.

 

It became apparent that Myka Bering didn’t know what this was, because as they sat down at a small table in a nearby burger joint, she began talking about Christina’s progress in homework and asked Helena what television they’d been watching. Helena smiled.

 

“We’ve been watching Dr Who, actually,” she said, and Myka’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you might object, but I believe the show to be quite educational, and despite the silliness of some of it, it does cover a lot of history that Christina might not otherwise be exposed to. And she loves it, which is half the battle, in my experience,” Helena continued, and Myka smiled, a little slyly.

 

“You’ve got me there. I just… I want the best for her. She’s a great kid, and she just has me, now, and…”

 

Helena realised, suddenly, what Myka meant. There must have been a Mr Myka at some point.

 

“Did you… were you with someone, when you adopted Christina?” she asked, and Myka stared at her plate for a long moment.

 

“Sam. My high school boyfriend, and then my husband, eventually. He went into law enforcement. We lived back in Colorado Springs, and he was hit by a car when Christina was about ten months old. He was helping a motorist to change a tire. Just so stupid.” Myka shook her head.  “He… we couldn’t have kids of our own; I had cancer. So we adopted, and we got Christina, and those first ten months were the best of my whole life, you know? Just… like a fairytale, or something. And then Pete knocked on the door. Pete is my best friend, and he worked with Sam, and he was the one who told me. I moved out here a while after, thinking that the distance would help. Pete helped me with Christina for a while when she was little. I’ll never be able to repay him for that,” Myka said, and Helena stared. She had had no inkling at all that such incredible pain lay in Myka’s past.

 

“Jesus. I am so, so sorry,” she said, and she took Myka’s hand, running her thumb over the knuckles, trying to comfort. Myka looked up at her, the pain clear in her eyes.

 

“It’s in the past now, and I know it’ll never really leave me, but I got Christina out of it, so I can’t complain too much,” she said, and she was attempting a light tone, but it didn’t quite work.

 

“Still. That’s a hell of a burden to carry alone, Myka. I am so impressed at your strength. And to be running your own firm, too, in a business like advertising… you’re amazing.”

 

Myka smiled at her, her face flushing again, and her eyes drifted down to where Helena’s fingers were still playing with hers. She made no effort to pull away, so Helena continued running her thumb and fingers along Myka’s knuckles and around the pads of her fingertips. She had beautiful hands; slender and delicate but still strong.

 

“Thank you,” Myka said eventually, and Helena smiled at her. She was beautiful, and Helena wasn’t entirely sure what was happening here, but she liked Myka Bering a lot. A large amount.

 

The waitress chose that moment to take their orders and Helena ordered a burger loaded with all sorts of unhealthy rubbish, while Myka ordered a salad, her eyebrow rising when she heard what Helena was intending to eat.

 

“What?” Helena asked, indicating the raised eyebrow.

 

“That’s a lot of fatty food for such a slim person,” Myka said, and Helena smiled.

 

“I don’t eat huge amounts, but it’s the weekend, I’m hungry, and it looks good. Why not?” she shrugged, and Myka made a strange little half-frown. “Is that a problem?” Helena asked, confused.

 

“No… I just… my father was very strict. Drilled a lot of discipline into me. I guess I just don’t like to just let loose, you know?” Myka said, and Helena shrugged.

 

“Everything in moderation, I believe is the phrase?” Helena said. “It’s not the end of the world if I put on a pound or two. Those stairs of yours will take care of any excess weight for now.”

 

“I lost a lot of weight when I moved in. Those stairs are killer,” Myka said, with a half-smile. Helena smiled back, a warmth in her chest that probably shouldn’t be there, considering that this beautiful woman might be the adoptive mother of her biological child. However. Myka was incredible, and it had been a long time since Helena had met anyone who had interested her this much. What if Christina wasn’t even hers? Then she could be passing up an opportunity that she hadn’t had in years, for the massively unlikely notion that Christina Bering could be her biological child.

 

They ate lunch mostly in quiet, exchanging occasional words and smiles, and they walked back to the brownstone together.

 

“Thank you for lunch,” Helena said, as they entered the house.

 

“You’re welcome,” Myka said, with a shy smile.

 

Helena headed back to her rooms, taking some time to read and relax. She heard Christina come in a little later, and a while after that, the girl knocked on her door.

 

“Helena?” Christina asked, popping her head around the door. “Mom says do you want to have dinner with us?”

 

“I can’t say I can make grammatical sense of that aberration of a sentence, young lady,” Helena said, mock-seriously, “but I believe I caught the gist. I would love to have dinner with you.”

 

“Come down whenever you’re ready,” Christina said, blushing slightly at the criticism.

 

“Thank you, darling,” Helena said, and the girl smiled at her. Helena’s heart clenched for what must have been the twentieth time that day. The Bering women were going to be the end of her, one way or another.

 

Their dinner was pleasant, Christina chattering about soccer and the other children on the team and their trainer. Myka spent much of the time watching Helena from the corner of her eye. It was oddly sweet. It seemed that perhaps Myka Bering wasn’t as straight as Helena had supposed, if the glances from under her eyelashes were any indication.

 

They watched a movie later that night – one of the Harry Potters, at Christina’s insistence. Helena didn’t pay it much attention, but the girl was enthralled. It was the third one, Helena thought, but she was too busy concentrating on the woman next to Christina on the sofa. Myka Bering was strong, stronger than Helena had ever thought possible. While Helena was acting like a teenager, drinking, taking drugs and sleeping around, Myka had been a grown-up, marrying the man she loved and adopting a child after fighting cancer. She had taken on a ten-month old child on her own, after the death of her husband, at the age of what – 23 years old? How did that sort of strength even exist in a person? It certainly hadn’t in Helena, or at least not at that age. She’d lost her parents since, and had spent a lot of time regretting giving up her child, because her parents hadn’t even been around for long enough to make it a real issue. But she still had Charlie, who’d even moved to the States when she did, having little to stay in the UK for.

 

Christina fell asleep not long after Voldemort petrified a cat, or that’s what Helena thought had happened, and Myka Bering picked up the girl with surprisingly muscular arms and carried her upstairs to bed. Helena fidgeted a little, wondering if she should stay here or go back to her room, but Myka settled the matter for her by re-appearing a few minutes later with a glass of wine in each hand.

 

“I hope you don’t mind – I assumed you would probably drink, and red wine is usually a good bet,” Myka said, and Helena smiled.

 

“You were right. I am a red wine drinker,” she said, with a smile that she knew was probably a little too flirtatious to be proper. Myka blushed a little when she handed the glass over and their fingers brushed.

 

“I assume you don’t want to watch the rest of the movie,” Myka said, and Helena frowned.

 

“Why on earth would you assume that? This is a modern classic,” Helena said, and Myka began to stammer and stutter her way through an apology for presuming. Helena snorted out a laugh.

 

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You may, of course, turn it off. I’ve seen it before, and if I were to rewatch any of the movies, I’d choose the Prisoner of Azkaban. Best movie of the bunch, despite the loss of the best Dumbledore,” Helena said, and Myka frowned, then.

 

“You really think that Richard Harris was better than Michael Gambon?” she said, and Helena raised an eyebrow.

 

“Of course. Who wouldn’t? Michael Gambon fundamentally misunderstood the nature of the character. He didn’t read the books. He had no insight into Dumbledore. He grabbed Harry by the throat and screamed at him about the bloody goblet of fire, for Christ’s sake. Are you telling me that Dumbledore would have laid a finger on a student in that fashion, the way he was written in the books?” Helena asked. Myka had tilted her head about halfway through Helena’s half-rant, looking thoughtful.

 

“You know, I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way. I liked the later films more, but I think I get what you mean, about Gambon. He was kind of rough, and Dumbledore never was, in the books.”

 

“So,” Helena said, threading a hand into her hair as she leaned against the back of the couch, “why don’t you let Christina read the Harry Potters at bedtime rather than that dreadfully boring stuff you’ve had me reading to her?” She smiled to make sure that Myka knew she wasn’t being nasty, but simply making an observation.

 

“Well, it just… they don’t seem like they’re really that educational, and I want her to get the best education she can,” Myka said.

 

“Come now, Myka. Rowling throws the classics in those books every few pages. Like Dr Who, it’s a great way to engage a child’s mind while still being entertaining. I’m sure she would learn a lot more from Harry Potter and even Percy Jackson than she does from the stuff I’ve been reading. It’s so dull I can’t even remember what it was about!” Helena said, and she laughed as Myka blushed a little.

 

“I guess it is a little dusty. It’s stuff my dad had me read when I was a kid. I wanted to read HG Wells and Jules Verne, but he wanted me to read proper historical literature and that’s what I thought Christina should read.”

 

“Thought? Does that mean I might have convinced you, even a little, to reconsider her reading material?” Helena asked coyly.

 

“Maybe,” Myka said, equally coyly, as she took a sip from her wine.

 

“So, wait a minute,” Helena said, with a smirk. “I told you that my name is essentially HG Wells and you ignored me, as if it was the most boring name in history. What was that, if you’re a fan of his writing?”

 

“Honestly?” Myka asked, her eyes on Helena’s. “You make me nervous, and I guess I just… froze up, a little.”

 

“Why on earth would I make you nervous?” Helena asked quizzically.

 

“Well, I guess I just… I expected a middle-aged housekeeper, and you swept in all dressed up and beautiful and put-together, and I just didn’t expect you,” Myka said, and Helena could feel that she was biting her own bottom lip and she knew how it looked but god, she didn’t want to look away from Myka just then. She wanted to take her to bed and find out if there was anything else she could do to make Myka Bering blush or stammer.

 

“I didn’t expect you, either,” she said, finally, and Myka was looking at her, too, like she wanted to devour her. Helena bit her lip even harder. She couldn’t do this – they couldn’t do this, surely, when they were employer and employee? That would blur things too much, surely.

 

Apparently not, because a few seconds later Myka had closed the distance between them, putting her wine on the coffee table and taking Helena’s, too, before she had adequately processed what was happening. And then they were kissing, and Myka’s hand was cupping her jaw and running up into her hair and Helena was still trying to catch up. When Myka bit at her bottom lip, however, her body took over. She slipped her tongue into Myka’s mouth, grinning as Myka made a loud noise in her throat, then let her own hand drift up into Myka’s curls. They were just right for pulling, and Helena couldn’t resist, because hair-pulling was a bit of a thing with her and Myka had bitten her so it was fair game, as far as she was concerned. Myka’s shiver told her she’d made the right move, and things escalated from there.

 

***

 

“Well, that was unexpected,” Helena said, when she woke up the next morning to an anxious-looking Myka Bering watching her. She looked around, seeing that she was in an unfamiliar bedroom – Myka’s, clearly. She hadn’t seen it properly the night before because the lights had been out and she’d had other things on her mind – and on her body, too. Namely Myka.

 

“Hi,” Myka said weakly, the sheet wrapped tightly around her and her jaw tight.

 

“Hello, Myka. Are you okay? You seem… tense,” Helena said, and Myka tensed even more.

 

“I… I haven’t done this, in like, forever, and you’re Christina’s nanny, and I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage or anything,” Myka said, almost cringing. Helena reached over and put a finger over Myka’s lips.

 

“Myka. We are consenting adults, both of us, are we not?”

 

Myka nodded, her lips warm against Helena’s finger.

 

“What happened last night was wonderful. But it doesn’t have to mean a thing. We can go back to our previous status as employer and employee, or we can be friends with benefits, or we can see what this thing between us is. I like you very much, Myka Bering, and I would not be opposed to any of those options. Whatever makes you comfortable. Now. I’m going to go upstairs to shower. When and if you want to talk about this, you know where I am,” Helena said, and she could feel her smile taking over her face.

 

“Before I go, may I kiss you?” Helena asked, and Myka nodded slowly. Helena leaned forward and kissed Myka gently; so gently that it felt like a whisper on her own lips. “Until later, Ms Bering,” she said with a wink, and left the bed to recover her clothes from their various locations around the room. She dressed quickly and left with a quick backwards look to find Myka watching her with wide eyes. She smiled as she left the room.

 

She showered and dressed and was downstairs getting Christina’s breakfast ready when Myka arrived, red-faced and mumbling. Helena ignored her, acting as she normally did and breezing around making coffee and getting orange juice and chopping fruit. Christina came downstairs and nodded her way through breakfast sleepily, and once she was gone the house was filled with nothing but awkward. Helena determinedly ignored it and loaded the dishwasher before disappearing up to her room, leaving Myka to her thoughts. The door downstairs closed with a final-sounding ‘click’, and Helena sighed. She hadn’t meant to sleep with Myka, but she didn’t regret it. It had been… memorable. More than that. Kissing Myka felt like coming home after a long trip. Making love to her had been… not as it should have been, for a first time with a new partner. It had felt right, not awkward and exposing, as it sometimes could. There had been silly moments – Helena had accidentally headbutted Myka’s knee, seeing stars for a moment, and leaving what she suspected was a hefty bruise on Myka’s leg. And Myka had bitten her so hard when she came that Helena had a bruise on her shoulder, where the big muscle went across. A perfect bruise in the shape of Myka’s dentition. It had been oddly satisfying to see it in the mirror that morning. She suspected that it was, in part at least, that bruise that had caused Myka to be so reticent that morning. Perhaps she wasn’t used to letting loose in the bedroom – she certainly wasn’t anywhere else, Helena thought.

 

Helena went downstairs to get a few things ready for Christina’s dinner later. She had vegetables to chop and meat to slow cook, and she was concentrating hard on the food when there was a knock at the door. She went to answer it, wiping her hands with a dishtowel, and found Claudia Donovan on the other side of the door with several to-go cups from a coffee chain and a bag of what looked to be some sort of fatty breakfast pastry.

 

“Good morning,” Helena said, tilting her head to regard Claudia curiously. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Ms Donovan?” she asked, and Claudia walked in to the house, sitting herself at the breakfast bar and placing the cups and pastries on the counter. Helena followed her, bemused, and took down some small plates from a cupboard on which to place the pastries. She sat next to Claudia and took a cup wordlessly, choosing a strawberry pastry that was so flaky she was wearing the majority of it in moments. She shook a sugar packet, tearing the end off and emptying it into her coffee, determined to wait Claudia out, since the girl still hadn’t spoken since her entry into the house.

 

“So, Myka smiled at me this morning. She called me Claud, which she has only called me once at an office party when she was like, 7 glasses of prosecco in. And she has a hickey that she covered up with a scarf. So I was thinking, and I thought a little harder, and then I remembered you calling me to tell me off for her not eating lunch, and something clicked,” Claudia said, looking at her pastry. Helena continued to eat her pastry impassively, waiting for a question.

 

“So I figured maybe the two of you might have, you know, bumped uglies or whatever, and she’s all happy and sweet and then I thought… evil Mary Poppins. You aren’t some dumpy Mrs Doubtfire. And Myka’s sweet and sad and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit. So I came here, with the peace offerings and a warning.”

 

“Is this what is now referred to as the ‘shovel’ talk?” Helena asked politely.

 

“Mm hmm,” Claudia said, nodding and talking through a mouthful of something that looked like it had sausage, bacon and was that syrup dripping from it?

 

“I assure you, Ms Donovan. My intentions are honourable. Myka and I… we did spend some very enjoyable time together last night, which I will point out was initiated mutually. I am not some vile seductress, come to steal her virtue and her silver. She’s an intelligent, beautiful woman and anything we did was entirely consensual. I will also say that, as far as continuing that side of our relationship goes, the ball is in Myka’s court. I would be very happy to see where things go. It has been some time since I’ve met anyone as interesting as Myka Bering. But if she isn’t interested in pursuing anything, we will go back to being employer and employee. I promise you. I respect her and Christina too much. I would never try to hurt either of them.”

 

She had turned partway through her speech to look Claudia in the eye and, by the end of it, she could see that Claudia believed her.

 

“Thank God,” she said, raising her hands in supplication to the heavens, incidentally spraying a fair amount of pork product around the kitchen. “I thought you might be trying to like, infiltrate her house to steal her company out from under her or to kidnap Christina for ransom or something. Because I found something out about you, Mary Poppins. You aren’t a nanny,” Claudia said.

 

Helena sighed.

 

“I am not a nanny. Or I wasn’t. I’m certainly acting as one now,” she said, and she turned to face Claudia again. She explained the several mix ups that had ended with her working here, and after looking at her with narrow eyes for what felt like an eternity, Claudia smiled.

 

“That is the plot of some shitty movie, come on!” she said, and offered a high five, which Helena returned, a little limply. She didn’t understand this girl, though she suspected that Steve might.

 

“I rather thought the same myself. I wanted to work at Myka’s firm – not to take over it, I might add – because my arch-nemesis got me fired and here I am earning more money as a bloody nanny and living with a woman who, I’m sorry, might be the hottest person I’ve met in years. I have no idea how it happened. And Christina is such a love, this has been the easiest job in history, I have to say. Despite the long hours at times, it’s lovely here and Christina is brilliant and bright and Myka is so, so lovely.” Helena sighed, resting her head on her joined hands, and Claudia clapped her hands excitedly.

 

“That is so awesome. You’ve, like, found your prince or whatever. What was that movie, with the singing Princess and she moves in with Dr McDreamy and they make dresses out of curtains? That’s what this is like, but with less singing,” Claudia said, and she clapped again with glee.

 

“Well, I’m not sure I understood half of that sentence, but I’m pleased that you’re pleased. Are you going to turn me in for my lack of nanny experience?” Helena asked, and Claudia shook her head.

 

“No way, man,” she said, around a mouthful of something chocolatey. “I want to see how this turns out. But if you hurt her, I swear, I will take you down so hard, Wells.”

 

“And that’s quite as it should be,” Helena agreed. They nodded at one another, and after finishing her food, Claudia left with a weird, high-pitched giggle and a few shoulder bumps. The girl was truly bizarre, but entertaining to spend time with. Helena made a mental note once again to introduce her to Steve. Those two could be soulmates in the making. Platonic, of course. But soulmates nonetheless.

 

The rest of the day was much the same as any other, except that when Myka arrived home she was aloof and had brought dinner with her, to save Helena from cooking for her. However, when Helena went to head upstairs and leave Myka to her thoughts, Myka grabbed her arm.

 

“I’m sorry. About this morning. I was weird, and things didn’t need to be weird, and you were so nice to me. I just need a little time to think. I hope that’s okay,” she said, and her face was so appealing that Helena just smiled.

 

“Of course, Myka. Enjoy your dinner.”

 

She left Myka to her meal, and it was a number of days later when things between them were cleared up. In the meantime, Helena had been working a lot because Myka was, and her time to herself was limited as she spent most of her time with Christina. That Friday, however, Myka returned as Helena was reading to Christina, and she’d dug out her copy of Harry Potter, finally, to read to the girl. Christina was enthralled and insisted that Helena attempt the voices as they had been in the films. Helena was attempting Hagrid’s drawling brogue when she heard a giggle from the doorway. She looked up to see Myka watching with that look in her eyes from the first night, the one Helena had been unable to interpret. Its meaning was still a mystery, but clearly it was some sort of positive feeling, because when Helena left a snoring Christina to go downstairs, she was instead pulled straight into Myka’s bedroom. She had to stuff a pillow into her mouth at one point to avoid waking the girl because what Myka was doing was so incredible that she was turning into a screamer. It was something she’d only experienced a handful of times, this affinity she had with Myka in the bedroom, and with the others it had only happened after some time together. She and Myka had instant chemistry, and it was exhilarating.

 

A lot later, when they were both almost asleep, Myka was tracing Helena’s lips with one finger, her eyes tracing Helena’s face, too.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, and Helena looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

 

“For?”

 

“For freaking out on you,” Myka said, and Helena shrugged.

 

“How long has it been, since you were with anyone?” she asked, playing with a tendril of Myka’s curly hair idly.

 

“A long time. After Sam, I didn’t date for about four years. Then there was this intern called Patty, she was a one-time thing, and then Adam the stock broker, who, despite sounding like a douche was actually quite a good guy. And then Melanie. She was my first relationship, I guess. Christina liked her. And then she got a job in Asia and she left, like, right away. Christina was heartbroken. I was okay; I mean, I liked her but I could deal with it. But it wasn’t fair to Christina. So things have been quiet on that front for a while,” Myka said, quietly.

 

“Is that why you weren’t sure about this?” Helena asked, and Myka nodded, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. “I understand, you know. It doesn’t have to be anything unless you want it to be. All Christina needs to know is that I’m her nanny, and if and when I have to leave, that’s that. I don’t want to make your life any harder. You already have so much on your plate, Myka,” she murmured, pushing a lock of Myka’s hair behind her ears. Playing with Myka’s hair was fast becoming one of her favourite pastimes.

 

“Why are you so nice?” Myka asked. “I haven’t exactly been friendly, and you’ve looked after me and Christina from day one like we were your own blood. I don’t understand you,” she admitted.

 

“I’m just a person, Myka. I needed a job, and you gave me one when I needed it. And this place – your home – it feels like a home. And Christina is an amazing child. And you are an exceptionally beautiful woman. How could I not want to be with you?” she asked, and Myka, rather predictably, blushed.

 

“You… you’re so, so beautiful, Helena. I mean, if I’d met you in a bar or something, there’s no way I would have even approached you. I would have been too nervous,” Myka said, with a shy smile.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t have known,” Helena said with a laugh. “You certainly didn’t hold back, that first night – or tonight. And I’m not complaining, believe me,” she said, with what she was sure ended up looking like a leer.

 

“I’m not usually like that,” Myka said, looking away nervously. “I think you must bring it out in me.”

 

“I bring it out in you?” Helena exclaimed. “It was all I could do not to scream out to the whole neighbourhood about what you were doing to me before. If anything, we bring it out in each other.”

 

Myka smiled, a real, wide smile.

 

“I think I like that, if that’s true. That we bring it out in each other,” she said, and she was so adorably shy in that moment that Helena just had to kiss her, which led to other things and another pillow clenched between teeth to avoid waking Christina and the whole street.

 

***

 

They fell into an incredibly comfortable sort of domesticity from there, Helena and Myka and Christina. It was a week later and they hadn’t spent a night apart since that second night together. She was still making dinner for Myka when she arrived home, but that usually led them to Myka’s bedroom or the couch or once, the kitchen counter, which Helena had scrubbed the following morning while reminiscing on what they had done the night before, her smile wide and dreamy. All in all, it was perfect, and Helena was beginning to visualise a future where they might be together as a family, and perhaps add a few more little ones to their number. She hadn’t ever found herself dreaming about that sort of thing in the past, having been so much more focused on her career, but a few weeks away from the office and she’d found that she’d only thought about it a handful of times, and only in the context of understanding why Myka was so drained and weary when she arrived home.

 

It was not long after the kitchen counter incident when her brother Charles called her for one of his flying visits.

 

“Helena, darling. I’m in New York for the afternoon. Can I pop by?” he said, his voice distorted by the bad cell signal.

 

“Of course, Charlie. But I’m not in my apartment. I’ll send you the address,” she said, and he hung up before she could say goodbye. She sighed. Charlie could be hard work. He was a successful author and a bit up his own arse, if truth be told. But he was a loving brother and had always stood by her.

 

When he arrived, he let her take his coat (while she rolled her eyes) and looked around the impressive entrance of the brownstone.

 

“How have you found yourself here, Helena?” he asked, hands clasped behind his back as he regarded his surroundings.

 

“Well, it’s sort of a long story, actually,” she said, with a sigh, as she ushered him into the kitchen for a hot drink.

 

By the end of her tale, Charles was laughing, a braying sort of guffaw that he did when something really amused him.

 

“So your head was so turned by a pretty face that you ended up here, as a nanny, instead of working for her advertising firm, which was the job that goon Wolly was supposed to be putting you forward for?” he barked out, and she found herself laughing along with him. It was pretty hilarious.

 

“You’ve got me. I screwed up. But I needed a job, so I carried on with it and I actually found that I’m good with children, believe it or not.” She said the last part with a sad smile. Charlie had been with her the day she’d signed over her daughter, after all. He’d held her hand through the birth and held her while she cried afterwards.

 

“I never doubted that you would be, not for a second,” he said, his eyes kind.

 

She suddenly remembered that she hadn’t told him about her suspicions as to Christina’s parentage -  hadn’t, in fact, thought about the matter at all since she and Myka had begun their… whatever it was. Because they already felt like a family, so whether Christina was hers biologically or not didn’t matter. She was about to mention it when she heard the key in the door and realised that Christina was home.

 

“Helena!” the little girl shouted excitedly as she came through the door, and Helena stood up, smoothing her trousers nervously as the girl ran into the kitchen. She slowed down as she saw Charles sitting at the breakfast bar.

 

“Christina, darling,” Helena opened her arms and Christina ran into them for a hug, while Charles watched in bemusement. “This is my brother, Charles. He popped by for a quick visit on his way to… where are you on your way to, Charlie?” she asked, suddenly realising that she had no idea where he was going to or coming from.

 

“I am heading back to London for some meetings,” Charles said, standing up with a flourish and holding out his hand for Christina to shake. “You must be Christina Bering,” he said, kneeling down next to the girl. “I’m Helena’s big brother Charles, and I am much more fun than she is,” he said, conspiratorially, and the girl giggled. They spent a fun hour or so eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and getting Christina started on her homework before Charles had to go. Helena walked him to the door and he immediately looked at her accusingly.

 

“Is she yours, Helena?” he asked, and Helena shifted uncomfortably.

 

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she began, and he glared at her furiously.

 

“I thought you were growing up, Helena. You look so content. But if you’re trying to break up this family, I…”

 

“No, Charles,” she said, in a hissing sort of whisper. “That’s not it. This is all a ridiculous coincidence. This happened exactly as I told you it did, with me going for a job as an advertising executive. Which I foolishly trusted Wolly to find for me. It was only when I got here the first morning that I saw the resemblance. I promise you, Charlie. I don’t even want to know if she’s mine or not. I care for her and her mother a lot. I was curious, I will admit, but now I don’t care. I just want to see how this thing goes with Myka, I swear.”

 

He looked at her suspiciously for a long moment before realising, as her eyes filled with tears, that Helena was sincere.

 

“Okay. Good. I’m happy for you, then, sister dear. Because Christina is a wonderful child, and it looks like you’re falling for her mother, if you haven’t already,” he said, and Helena smiled.

 

“I think I am,” she said, and he smiled widely at her before hugging her tightly.

 

“Congratulations, then, darling. I am so pleased for you. Call me when you want me to be best man at your wedding,” he said with a smile, and then he left with a wave.

 

Helena had already closed the door, so she didn’t see Charles lifting one of Christina’s hairs from his sleeve and placing it carefully in an envelope.

 

***

 

It was Christmas Eve, and Helena and Christina were getting the tree decorated as a surprise for Myka. The star on the top was going to have to wait until Myka arrived, because she was the only one tall enough to reach. Not only that, but Helena wanted her to place the star there while she and Christina applauded. It was the first time in her adult life that Helena had felt like she was part of a family, and she couldn’t wait for it.

 

Myka came through the door with an envelope in her hands, looking puzzled. She looked up to find Helena and Christina there, and her expression went from puzzled to happy in an instant. She abandoned the envelope and her coat and bag and went to them, lifting Christina up and squeezing her tightly before pulling Helena in, too. Christina squealed loudly.

 

“Mommy, are you and Helena together?” she asked, and Helena looked at Myka with a wince. They hadn’t talked about this, not at all. Helena’s heart was thumping hard enough to burst out of her chest. Myka smiled at Christina before leaning over to kiss Helena softly.

 

“Does that answer your question, honey?” Myka asked, and Christina squealed happily.

 

“This is the best Christmas ever!” she yelled, her voice ear-piercing. Myka put her down gently and, when Helena handed it to her, placed the star on top of the tree to as thunderous a round of applause as a small girl and a nanny can make. Myka twirled around and bowed before pulling Helena close and kissing her again, this time more thoroughly.

 

“Ew. Are you done, mommy? Because that was gross, and Helena made cookies,” the girl said, with a disgusted expression. Myka laughed loudly before following them into the kitchen for cookies and hot chocolate.

 

Helena put Christina to bed after a ridiculously sweet evening together watching Disney movies in pyjamas. It was so horribly domestic and sweet that Helena was wondering how hard Charles would vomit at the whole spectacle, if he saw it. When she arrived downstairs, Myka was standing near the Christmas tree with an envelope in her hands.

 

“I didn’t mean to open this – I didn’t even check the name,” she said, and she was shivering, her face white.

 

“What on earth is wrong, Myka?” Helena asked, approaching her quickly to pull her into a hug. Myka pushed her away so hard that she almost fell over. She looked at Myka in shock, her mouth wide. What was happening?

 

“This… it’s a letter from your brother. He says that he wanted to find out so that Christina would be taken care of. It’s a DNA test, Helena.”

 

Helena’s hand lifted to her mouth. Why would Charles do this?

 

“It says that Christina is your biological daughter. Is that why you came here, Helena? You came here to take her from me? Is that what this was all about? Finding your daughter and taking her back? I can’t believe I trusted you. I can’t… Get your stuff and get the hell out of here. I’ll ship anything you leave. And if you try anything, I’ll drag you through every court in this country and in England. You gave her away, you fucking monster. You don’t get to come and take her away from me now.”

 

Myka was shaking with rage, her hands white because she was gripping the letter so hard.

 

“Get out,” she repeated, and her voice was so guttural, so unlike her that Helena just turned and picked up her phone, wallet and keys and left, still in her fluffy pyjamas. There was no way that she could explain any of this without sounding like a horrible liar, so she just left. There was nothing else to be done. Her new life, this dream that she’d thought was coming true, it was in tatters. She hailed a cab and it took her back to her empty apartment and she cried herself to sleep alone.

 

***

 

Steve came to see her a few days later, having been completely unaware of all that had transpired in the meantime. He had thought she was spending Christmas with the Berings, and had decided to leave her to it. But Claudia, who he’d become fast friends with, had contacted him when she had arrived at her first day after Christmas only to be sent to the Bering home to look after a heartbroken Christina by an equally heartbroken Myka.

 

“What the hell, Helena? You didn’t tell me? I could have been here for you. What have you been doing?” he asked, taking in her dirty pyjamas, the empty bottles of whiskey and wine, and the numerous tissues scattered on every surface.

 

“I’ve been busy,” Helena slurred, indicating her empty yet somehow messy apartment. “Had to get the place looking right for the new year, now that I’m back,” she said, with a hysterical laugh that quickly turned into tears. He held her for an hour before she fell asleep, and when she woke up he was there with coffee and lots of food to soak up the alcohol. He held her as she cried, and a while later was joined by Claudia Donovan, who brought coffee and doughnuts and a lot of stupid jokes to cheer Helena up.

 

“I owe you, for introducing me to this guy,” Claudia said, when asked why she was being so nice, as Helena wept helplessly on her shoulder. “And I think if things went differently, you’d make Myka really, really happy. And I know you love the kid,” she said, shrugging and almost dislodging Helena from her shoulder.

  
“Thank you,” Helena said, through great gouts of snot and tears. Claudia looked at her, a little grossed out, by her expression, but she still nodded. 

 

“Sure.”

 

It was two days after that when Steve finally coaxed Helena into the shower and out of her crusty pyjamas. He insisted that she come out for lunch before the New Year, and she agreed, finally running out of tears and thinking about her future. She was thinking about returning to England, if truth be told, because during her time in the States she felt that she had achieved precisely nothing; or rather, that she had achieved everything she hadn’t known she wanted and then lost it.

 

Steve took her out to a nearby diner and they sat and chatted, Claudia having left to return to whatever it was that she did in her free time.

 

“How are you feeling, babe?” Steve asked, as they were tucking into what was delicious but very fatty diner food; a full breakfast for her with all sorts of pork products and a vegan special for him.

 

“I’m… I’m doing a little better, thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being here for me, these last few days. It’s been one of the worst times of my life, barring giving up my child – giving up Christina.”

 

He looked at her carefully before speaking again.

 

“And how are you feeling about that part, the fact that she’s actually yours?” he asked, and she smiled weakly.

 

“Honestly, Steve, it doesn’t matter even a tiny bit to me. She felt like my daughter right away, if I’m honest. Whether she’s my blood doesn’t matter. Obviously, it mattered to Charles because he wanted to make sure that Christina didn’t want for anything, but I love her regardless. I hope that Myka will allow me to send the odd letter or card to her. I’ll write and ask, eventually. Once I’m back home.”

 

“What?” Steve said, alarmed, his food halfway to his mouth.

 

“I think… I’m going back to London, Steve. I have loved the time I’ve spent here, but it’s just… It’s too much, now that I know they’re here and I can’t have them, you know?”

 

He looked at her with wide, tear-filled eyes.

 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving. I… When are you going?”

 

“I haven’t made plans just yet, but I think just after New Year. I need to get my belongings back from Myka’s house – she said she’d ship them, but she hasn’t, yet. There’s not much that I actually want, but there are some documents and things that I need, there.”

 

Her eyes were filling with tears again. She couldn’t quite comprehend how her body could contain that amount of liquid; after crying for so many days, how could she even have any left?

 

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Steve said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I love you, you know. I will miss you so much if you leave. I hope you’ll think about it again before you decide. Please?”

 

“I’ll think about it,” she said, reluctantly.

 

***

 

It was New Year’s Eve, and she had decided to stay home, despite Steve and Claudia’s insistence that she come along to a work party of Steve’s at the Four Seasons. She wasn’t interested in socialising, and she’d drunk enough whiskey on Christmas day than she had in years. She didn’t want to be out with other people who were happy and in love on New Year’s Eve.

 

However, as she’d settled herself in her pyjamas, Steve came in with Claudia in tow, using the key she’d given him for emergencies.

 

“What are you doing?” Helena asked, in a huff, her arms crossed.

 

“I am here to take you out. You owe me, Helena Wells,” Steve said, with a glare. “You’re leaving me, so you owe me New Year’s Eve at least,” he said, and she glared back, until his expression changed slowly from a glare to a sad face complete with puppy pout.

 

“You owe me,” he said, again, insistently. She sighed. He was right.

 

“Good. Now that that’s over with, show me your closet. We need something smoking hot,” Claudia said, and Helena didn’t even have the heart to argue with her. Most of her clothes were still at Myka’s, but anything formal had been left behind – she hadn’t seen any point in bringing those along for a nanny job. She showed her closet to Claudia, who came out with a beautiful silvery-grey gown that Helena had worn to her old firm’s Christmas do a few years earlier.

 

“This is the one. And you need to put your hair up,” Claudia said, looking Helena over critically. “Get in the shower. You look like crap.”

 

Helena threw her hands up in consternation, but did as she was told. She didn’t have the energy to argue. She had a shower and when she came out, allowed Claudia to do her makeup and put her hair up, and she followed Steve and Claudia without protest to the car that was waiting outside. They arrived at the party and were served with champagne on arrival. It was a small room, filled with people Helena didn’t know. Helena stood with Steve and Claudia as they introduced her to a few people, and she smiled and laughed at the appropriate places. Had she been paying attention, she might have noticed that Steve and Claudia were both acting as if they were waiting for something, or someone.

 

As she smiled and nodded, Helena heard the band start up a Christmas tune, “Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” which had been playing the night she had decorated the tree with Christina, just as Myka had come home and kissed her and placed the star on top of the tree. Her eyes filled with tears immediately as the memory filled her with happiness immediately followed by pain. She could have had that happiness, she could have been part of a family. It didn’t occur to her just then that Christmas had been over for a week, and Christmas tunes were not part of a New Year’s Eve celebration, generally speaking. Not until she heard the voice from behind her.

 

“May I have this dance?”

 

Helena turned to find a radiant Myka Bering behind her, in a deep forest green dress, holding a single red rose. Helena just stared.

 

“What…?” she turned to see Steve and Claudia smiling widely at them both. “What’s going on?” Helena asked, and Myka stepped forward, giving her the rose.

 

“I found out just how wrong I was about you, Helena. Thanks to your friend Steve, and Wolly, and Claudia, and your brother Charles. They told me this tale of how you were so distracted by my pretty face that you took a job as a nanny when you’re actually an advertising executive, and how you somehow ended up working for the woman who’d adopted your child years ago, and how you fell in love with me and your daughter. I didn’t believe them at first – it sounded like the plot of a terrible movie. But I realised that you’re not the kind of person who would do the things I accused you of. Is there any way you can ever forgive me, Helena?” she asked, and her eyes were wide and sparkling with tears.

 

“Forgive you? For thinking I was trying to steal your daughter, when there was every appearance of me doing just that?” Helena managed, eventually. “Of course I forgive you. I can’t believe you forgive me!” she said, and Myka stepped forward and kissed her, and Helena almost dropped her champagne and her rose, because Myka’s mouth tasted like home and her hair was so soft and her lips were hot and slick on Helena’s…

 

“Okay, guys, break it up. We got children here!” Claudia shouted, and Helena extricated herself from Myka so that she could turn. She had just long enough to hand her drink and rose to Steve before Christina jumped into her arms.

 

“I missed you so much, Helena,” the little girl sobbed into her ear, and Helena was crying too, and then Myka was hugging them both and they were all crying. Once again, it was Claudia who broke it up.

 

“Come on, you guys. I used waterproof mascara but this is just ridiculous. Ladies, go dance – I owe this little one a dance, and you have some catching up to do,” Claudia announced, and Helena once again disentangled herself from Myka and this time from a clingy and overly-excited Christina. They took Claudia’s advice – or rather, they followed her orders – and took to the dancefloor, to light applause from those around them who’d seen their reunion.

 

They waltzed around for a few minutes before others joined them on the dance floor, and all the while they stared at one another, taking in the faces they’d both missed so much.

 

“I love you,” Myka blurted, suddenly, and Helena could feel her entire body flushing.

 

“How? How can you even trust me? What happened was so ridiculous that I don’t even believe it myself,” Helena said, in disbelief.

 

“Because no matter what the story was, no matter how many twists and turns it took, I can see the way you look at me, and the way you look at Christina. You love me, and you love her. There’s no way to fake that, and even though you did let me believe you were a nanny, I know I can trust you,” Myka said.

 

“But – you told me to leave. You called me a monster,” Helena said, and her eyes were filling with tears.

 

“I’m sorry,” Myka said, and her eyes were tear-filled, too. “I didn’t mean it. I swear. I was lashing out. It’s always easier to believe that someone is trying to get something from you, than to believe that they really care, you know?” she said, and Helena nodded.

 

“I understand. But… do you blame me, Myka? For giving her up? Because… I wasn’t ready, not back then,” she said, and Myka’s tears began overflowing, and she leaned forward to kiss Helena’s face and eyes.

 

“I don’t blame you at all. Firstly, because I got a beautiful daughter out of the deal, and secondly, because you did what was right for your daughter at the time, and no-one can ask more of you as a mother than that. I love you, Helena, and you did the right thing then. I know that because I can see how much you love her, and that tells me how much it must have hurt you to let her go. I love that you did that, even though it hurt.”

 

Myka’s eyes were shining, the green brighter than Helena had ever seen it, and she couldn’t resist leaning to kiss Myka again, and again, soft and slow and mixed with tears but all the sweeter, somehow, for that. Because no matter what else Helena Wells might do in her life, now, she would do it as part of a family – a family that she loved more than anything.

 

Just then, the band leader stopped playing and announced the countdown to midnight. Claudia and Steve came over to join them, bringing Christina along, and Helena lifted her little girl up into her arms, (with some difficulty, it had to be said) all of them counting along with the rest of the crowd.  At midnight she and Myka kissed Christina on each cheek, and then each other.

 

“Start as you mean to go on?” Myka said, hopefully, and Helena nodded.

 

“With you two in my arms? Absolutely,” Helena said, and they kissed again.

 

“Those two make me want to hurl,” Claudia remarked, loudly, behind them, and Steve snickered.

 

“I know you’re just jealous, Claud,” he said, and he wrapped her in his arms. The night ended with them dancing to Auld Lang Syne, even as Claudia wondered aloud “What the frak does that even mean, anyway?” Helena took a deep breath as she held her daughter and her love in her arms, and hoped that this was how every year would start from now on.

 

The End


End file.
